To Be Happy
by CaptainOfMyShip
Summary: Near feels like he is drowning in his depression and his loneliness, and only finds companionship in a less than willing Mello. Starts out dark, but there's a happy ending. One shot.


_**A/N: This fic is dedicated to the shooting at the Century 16 Theater. That's the movie theater I always go to, and I would have been at that showing if my friend hadn't been grounded. It terrified me.**_

_**The guy who did it wasn't some random junkie, or an inbred fool taking advantage of the gun control laws. He was a neuroscience student. He was brilliant, quiet, and polite. **_

_**The Columbine shootings were also from a student who seemed like an otherwise decent person. **_

_**What they did was very, very wrong. I do not forgive them, but my heart still goes out to both the victims and the attackers, because I started high school at twelve, and I have no delusions about being smart always being a good thing. I grew up in an abusive family, and I've been teased, and mocked, and although I've never wanted to kill anyone, I understand wanting to just punch someone in the face until they shut their stupid mouths up. Dear lord, I do. **_

_**It bothers me that we live in a world where shootings happen, but it also bothers me that we live in a world where people feel like the only way that they can do something about their lives is by taking the lives of others. **_

_**If anyone ever feels like they need to talk to someone, or life is getting difficult, or anything at all, they can PM me, and I promise to listen. If you want to say something about it, you can leave it as a review, and I won't mind if you don't actually say anything about the story. **_

_**You are not alone.**_

_**WARNINGS: There's some attempted suicide, so ummm, if that's a trigger for anyone, don't read. And boy love. Short of that, I refuse to tell anyone if anyone will die, or if there will be a happy ending, because real novels hardly give that kind of thing away at first glance, now do they?**_

* * *

It was practically tradition for the two of them, complete with a defined set of rules, and a schedule by which each event was set. Once every two weeks, the scores would be posted. At some point during the day, Mello would corner Near, who had the grace to look mildly scared, in deference to Mello's need to be scary, and Mello would shout in his face until he felt he had regained some of whatever he had lost.

Although Mello sometimes grabbed Near by the arm to drag him to whatever secluded corner he had chosen for his torment, and was never anything approaching gentle with his words, the fact remained that Mello never, ever struck Near. Or even so much as pinched him. Even the occasional shove was rare. His bullying of Near was mostly informed, and although the other students would all swear to the fact that Mello hurt Near, no one could think of a single instance in which they'd actually seen it occur.

And it was not, as many of the students assumed, fully Mello's impulsive and somewhat violent nature that created this tradition. Just as important as Mello's yelling was Near's whispering. It would begin the morning of the postings, cruel little reminders of who was first, of who was better, and of who would _always_ be better. The comments sunk their barbs into Mello like they were intended to, but the point that made every single one seem to drive completely in towards his heart was when the postings went up, and _everything Near said was true_. It was only natural to want to say something equally hurtful.

So when Near's words were particularly cutting ("You are only around in case I die, you know, and unless I keel over from a heart attack, your whole life has been a waste of oxygen and food") it was only part of the tradition that Mello actually pushed him into a wall before shouting his usual tirade of "I HATE YOU" mixed with "YOU BASTARD" and even the intermittent "STUPID SHEEP" tossed in.

Having followed the rules of their ritual perfectly, Mello was understandably upset when Roger, not understanding the bizarre games bizarre children sometimes chose to partake in, sent him to apologize. Mello _stormed_ up the stairs, and _stomped_ down the hall, and muttered about what a spoiled little brat the damn sheep was and how dare he and…

And then the muttering stopped when his brain did, except the random thought that didn't he see a horror movie like this once? but a horror movie couldn't capture the smell, and how many pints of blood could a person lose before they would die? and how did that bit get on the ceiling? and then Mello was throwing up, not fully being sick, but expelling from sheer shock and disgust before he could straighten up and wipe his mouth and go about doing what he was supposed to do in these situations.

He didn't check for a pulse, because he could see the blood steadily pumping out, and that was a good sign, no matter how bad it looked, right? And elevate, direct pressure, pressure points, treat for shock, and Mello found that the reason for the stupid first aid mantras was because when you were faced with the kind of situation that demanded first aid, it was pretty hard to think about the med classes you were taking.

Somehow, another student made their way up, although Mello could never remember screaming, even when his throat was sore after, and he couldn't talk for the next day, and Roger was called, though he seemed to have gotten the message that Mello was killing Near, but finally, _finally_, someone carried Near off, and Mello was able to collapse against the bed, which was covered in blood, but so was he, and even though tears poured from his eyes, it felt less like crying than anything he'd ever done in his life.

* * *

Near was gone for almost two weeks, and Mello was in the first place slot, although Near's name was still above his with a silly announcement about no, there would not be any disclosure regarding Near's absence, but be sure to welcome him back. And Mello was. The moment Near was back in his room, and the adults had stopped fussing over him, Mello slipped in, crossed his arms, and asked

"Well?" Near rolled his eyes at the blonde's sense of entitlement, but, since the last time he'd been in the room he'd saved his life, and even probably thought he was doing him a favor, Near allowed him a civil reply.

"Well, what?" As civil as he was willing to be, anyways. Which, as it happened, wasn't all that friendly.

"Well, what the fuck happened here?" Ah, fortunately, Mello had never been particularly strong on civilities himself, and could hardly begrudge him a slightly negative attitude.

"I attempted to commit suicide, unsuccessfully." The _duh_ was implied.

"Yes, obviously, but why?"

"That seems a little personal to share with my self-declared nemesis, is it not? Or did I mishear our last conversation when you informed me it would be better if I'd just die, hmm?" Guilt overwhelmed Mello so strongly that he felt like he was physically choking on it, and he actually swayed on his feet a little, before he realized his oxygen troubles came from neglecting to breathe.

"You…" _weren't supposed to actually die_ was what wanted to come out, but somehow, the message garbled on the way and finished "idiot. Suicide is for pussies who are too weak to live." This kind of translation error was common for Mello, but it only took one look at the white bandages on Near's arms, and the white walls, and the white coverlet and sheets before he remembered how red they all had been and swallowed and forced himself to say "But I'm sorry I said that." Was it possible for words to sound dusty? The apology certainly had a rarely used taste about it.

He waited for Near's eyes to soften or even fill up with tears, because being touched was the least he could do after Mello had apologized to him, of all things, but Near actually had the gall to smirk at him.

"Do you remember why you said that to me, or has your brain been damaged in the attempt to summon up some misguided pity for me?" For once lost for words, Mello gaped at Near, and it took great effort to close his mouth enough to shape the syllables to ask

"What?"

"Do you remember why you said that to me, or has your br-"

"No, I heard you, but what? What do you mean, I mean."

"I believe I revisited the idea that your parents didn't want you, informed you that you were pathetic, and offered to wave at you if my limo ever passed the Mcdonald's you will inevitably end up employed at." The rage from the first time he'd heard all this started to roll over Mello in uncomfortably hot waves, but he forced the anger in himself down, and said in as calm a voice as he could manage,

"Yes. I remember. You were being a bastard like always."

"Yes." Mello, who had been preparing for a roundabout way of saying Near didn't actually deserve to die without admitting he was wrong, stopped to stare at Near.

"What?"

"I was being unnecessarily cruel."

"You…I'm sorry, what?"

"If you wish for me to stop being cruel, you will have to make yourself less of a target by expanding your vocabulary past one word." Near's words were lost on Mello, who seemed to be struggling to grasp the concept of Near provoking him on purpose. And he'd thought he'd done such a good job being…feared.

"Why?"

"Because I'm unhappy, and it seemed only fair that you should be too. That hasn't helped much, though, so you are free to go do whatever it is you do. Play and run and such." Near waved a dismissive hand towards Mello, who walked out in a bit of a daze.

"As- as long as it wasn't my fault." The guilt was gone, and that was important, even if what replaced it was bewilderment. If anything else bothered Mello, he did a damn good impression of not giving a shit.

He continued to do so, even when Near stopped playing with his toys in favor of simply leaning against the wall and staring morosely at the ceiling or floor. Even when Near acquired a check sheet whose sole job seemed to be reminding him to eat three times a day. And two weeks later, when Mello was first place for once, and Near was somewhere around sixth, he had no reason to give a shit. So he didn't. Of course, when Near passed out in front of him from fatigue- which brought up the question of if he was up staring at the walls all night, since he wasn't studying or playing- Mello had to choose between stepping over the body and scooping him up and taking him somewhere, so with several sighs, and a furtive glance around to make sure there were no witnesses, he gently picked up the boy, and returned him to his room.

When Near woke up, he was lying in his own bed, and pleased to have forgotten the undoubtedly painfully long and pointless day, made no effort to move, and instead stared at the ceiling.

"Ahem." Near turned to see Mello leaning against the door again, arms crossed, and wondered if he had perhaps blanked out on another suicide attempt. Even his subconscious was tired of it all.

"Yes?" To his surprise, instead of being accusing, Mello looked slightly embarrassed and looked away when he shoved a hand under Near's nose.

"Here." Near looked down to inspect the hand, and discovered in its grasp a beaten up Gameboy.

"What is it for?"

"It always cheers Matt up, so I thought…just eat and sleep more, so I don't have to deal with you passing out on me again." He dropped the game in Near's lap and left without another word.

"Thank you." Near said to his empty room.

* * *

Of course, it didn't help. Although Near did manage to develop a sudden and inexplicable hatred for Mario, Princess Peach, and everything and anything else pixelated, he felt no improvement in the sense of helplessness and hopelessness that engulfed his life.

Since it was pointless to keep Matt's game and potentially ruin a blank space that was perfectly good for staring at, Near talked himself through the arduous process of sitting up, standing up, and shuffling towards Matt and Mello's room. On his way, he passed a door by Roger's office he'd never known led to anything more than a closet, but a flash of light against goggles and the faint smell of chocolate led him to push the door open and stick his head in.

"Mello?"

"Sh!" A hand wrapped around Near's face, covering his mouth, and the chocolate smell grew very, very strong as Mello breathed into his ear.

"Keep quiet, idiot, we're not supposed to be here." Near kept quiet out of a lack of anything to say rather than an adherence to Mello's orders, but he was neither petty nor driven enough to point this out. And his heart did beat a little faster with the excitement of not knowing what he was doing in the cramped closet with Mello glued to his back, and the pressure of a sweaty hand on his face, while the breathing of the three seemed to fill the closet with thicker, hotter air.

From the other room, a splashing was heard and Roger's indignant yell.

"BOYS!" Giggling madly, Matt and Mello made their escape from the closet, Mello grabbing Near's hand almost as an afterthought and pulling him along behind them so quickly it felt like his feet were only skimming the ground.

All three were panting heavily by the time they made it back to Matt and Mello's room, and although Near was much less fit than the other two, they had both wasted oxygen and energy laughing while they ran, so the three were fairly even.

"May I ask what was accomplished, so when we are punished, I know what was done to deserve it?"

"Chill, cottonball, no one will suspect you." Matt said lazily, random giggles still racking his frame every so often.

"As long as you leave now." Mello added, equally undone. Fully capable of taking the hint, Near removed himself from the bed on which the three of them had been sprawled- and since when had he shared the camaraderie with them necessary to do that?- and exited the room. It wasn't until he returned to his own, that he realized his face felt odd, and, touching it to see if he had something stuck to it, realized he was smiling. A small smile, but nothing like the pessimistic smirk he'd been sporting when he felt like a change in pace from the deadpan look.

It was the first spontaneous emotion, or positive emotion for that matter, that he'd felt in a long, long time, and Near decided to pursue it.

* * *

The next day, immediately after classes, Mello was lying on his bed, warm from the memory of the prank he'd pulled and the righteous indignation he'd felt at being accused of it- no matter that he was guilty, he _could _have been perfectly innocent!- when someone knocked at the door.

Whenever Mello opened his door, he had to be prepared for a victim of one of his pranks, a beneficiary of one of his pranks, Roger come to yell at him, or a teacher come to praise him for his latest miracle of a test score. Mello was prepared for pretty much anyone…except for Near, who had the grace to examine his bare toes for a moment while Mello regained his composure.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to speak to you?" It almost came out as a request, which made Mello suspicious, because Near never asked for anything. Why ask when God himself already seemed to be bending over backwards to accommodate you? Speaking of whom, Mello's hand around his rosary gave away his suspicion and Near mentally rolled his eyes and wondered what words could possibly undo years of rivalry, albeit a rivalry he'd never asked for.

"Fine, come in." Near had a sneaking suspicion that the invitation had more to do with an instinctual avoidance of witnesses than any actual sense of etiquette. It didn't really matter to him. Near was not one to get flustered by the unwavering attention Mello paid his speech, and simply delivered it as he'd come to do.

"Although I recognize that Mello does not see me as a friend, or even a particularly savory person, I harbor no ill will against you and I would like to join you in any future endeavors against Roger and order in general." Seeing his speech make absolutely zero impact on Mello's stony face, Near sighed and prepared to delve into the previously unexplored realm of his emotions. "Although I do not completely understand why your little escapade inspired such…emotion in me, I find that I did enjoy the experience, and enjoyment isn't something I find very easily anymore." Near felt an inexplicable urge to cry, but pushed it back, and waited patiently for Mello's response. He would doubtless make fun of Near for admitting to having emotions, interrogate him about Roger's involvement in the sudden interest he'd taken, and then finally, hopefully, say-

"No."

"What?" At the very least, Near had expected a long and dramatic explanation as to why he'd been either accepted or declined, but this monosyllabic response from Mello was extremely…Near.

"I said 'no', Near. Go away." Near later wondered if Mello had pushed him, or if he had simply stumbled back in physical response to the rejection, but somehow he was back in the hall, and the door slammed shut in his face. Another person may have stared at the door for a while, or even demanded to be let back in, but Near turned and started walking back to his room immediately, and resigned himself to absolutely nothing changing, a much more dire fate than it sounded.

Back in Mello's room, Matt looked up from his video game and relit the cigarette he'd put out when the knock at the door had first come.

"Whydja say no?"

"I'm not his counselor, Matty, if the sheep is depressed, he can go to someone else."

"Who?"

"What do you mean, who? Anyone else!"

"He doesn't really have friends. You're the only one who really pays attention to him. It's kind of sad."

"Well, maybe if you think he's so sad and lonely, you should go hang out with _him_ instead." Already letting it go, Matt turned back to his game.

"No need to snap, I was just saying, we might be able to use his flawless track record. These days, we get blamed for everything."

"We do everything."

"Yeah, but we shouldn't get caught for it."

"Point." There was a comfortable silence for a while. "Maybe. We'll wait and see if its an act. This could be Roger tryna figure us out."

"Dude, he cut himself open. If its an act, he deserves a goddamn Emmy. Anyways, Roger's figured us out. If something goes down, it was probably us."

"Yeah, maybe we could use the little piece of dandruff…only as long as his reputation holds."

"mmmm." Matt hummed amiably, and the two sat together, immersed in separate worlds of CG'd fantasy and plots of world domination.

* * *

Where Near had made himself known with a polite knocking on the door, Mello chose to announce his presence by throwing open Near's door and walking into his room. He figured if he walked in on anything private, the trip upstairs would be worth it just for the opportunity to laugh at the former's dick.

It was almost with disappointment that he found his ex-nemesis sitting on his bed, and leaning limply against the wall. He looked like a doll, set up to look like he was alive, but lacking the will or ability to actually move. With incredible effort, Near pulled up from the very depths of his inner strength the willpower to tilt his head vaguely in the direction of Mello.

"I would tell you to enter, but it appears you weren't depending on any such invitation."

"Yeah, listen, we need you." Tilting his head had been a burden, shooting up straight in his bed and leaning towards Mello would have been a burden not to do, so strong was his anticipation of doing something, _anything_, again.

"Not _you_, really, so much as your reputation. I mean, you don't look like you could even lift a firework, so we're gonna need you to light the fuse, while we sit innocently in the cafeteria, under Roger's watchful eye."

"There will be a fuse?" Near was suddenly worried about burning down the orphanage, and potentially killing himself in the process, but it was such a relief to be anything at all, the worry was wholly welcome.

"Not literally, dummy. No fireworks either." The two sighed in unison, Near in relief, and Mello with longing disappointment.

"Oh. Then what will I be doing."

"If you want to be a part of things…" Mello trailed off as if waiting for a response, and Near, though he had never understood the practice of continuous validation throughout a speech, nodded at him. "…then you need to do what I tell you, no questions asked."

"Alright." Near had expected something along these lines, since Mello seemed like the type to require constant reassurance that he was in charge. Near really didn't care where he was, so long as something changed for him.

"Jesus Christ, you look like a white highlighter. D'you have any other clothes?" Near shook his head 'no' while wondering what the purpose of a white highlighter would be, exactly. "Fine, you can borrow some of mine."

While Near made the fourth fold rolling up the sleeves of Mello's sleeves to fit his arms, Mello dug in his closet for some pants, and Matt filled him in on what he'd be doing.

"We can't order stuff straight to the door, you know. So we get them sent to nearby addresses, with the names of other people."

"What do the names matter?"

"Continuity, you know. Same names from the credit cards."

"You have aliases with credit cards?"

"No." Just as it began to dawn on Near that the source of the money for both the chocolate and cigarette supply was illegally obtained, Mello threw a pair of pants at him and dragged Matt away to hiss at him something about giving away all their secrets to the enemy.

When Near found himself on the wrong side of the orphanage walls in the dead of night, holding a bag of…he didn't know what, he wondered if it was a bad sign that he burned with curiosity more than trepidation. Although the logical response would be to wonder if Mello had tricked him into ending up locked out for the night, Near was more interested to know what the purpose of the package he'd picked up from the carefully memorized address was.

Near recalled ordering all manner of chemicals during his biology phase, some of which were highly volatile. What could Mello possibly have to obtain through underhanded means?" The bag moved slightly, and Near fervently hoped it was nothing that could potentially end up under his covers while he slept.

He half expected to be left to sit outside of the gate, but was not displeased to find Mello standing in a triangle of light that spilled from the small open doorway, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Did you get it?" Near nodded. "Good. Matt and I can't disappear for longer than ten minutes, or Roger will be able to link us to the prank.

"Won't your uncharacteristically good behavior give you away?"

"That's the best part. He won't be able to prove it, but he'll know."

"…" Near wondered when the thrill was going to kick in. Perhaps he had linked his feelings to the wrong part of the whole scenario, and the feeling of fulfillment had just been adrenaline for the run. Near was already reprimanding himself for jumping to conclusions prematurely when Mello leaned in and snaked an arm around him to poke at the bag. It wiggled, and Mello turned and grinned in Near's face before he realized how close he was and withdrew.

"You can leave it in our room. I have to go back before Roger realizes I'm not in the loo." Was the flushed heat Near felt as he carried the bag upstairs the success of a job well done, or simply the result of an increased heart rate from the exertion of carrying the sack of whatever- seven or eight pounds of whatever- across town and up three flights of stairs? Either way, it was encouraging, and was an undeniably living feeling.

* * *

Although he had clearly not been invited to do any such thing, Near 'accidentally' chose to misunderstand his instructions, and after dropping off the package, stayed in Mello and Matt's room and waited. Partially, this choice was made out of a not completely irrational fear that, having fulfilled his purpose, he would be discarded once again. Near sat primly on the edge of their bed, the only chair in the room being occupied by a hard drive and a random collection of wires, and folded his hands neatly in his lap, tilting his head slightly to achieve the familiar, almost meditative state of absent staring he'd grown so accustomed to. Surprisingly, after a few unsuccessful tries, he realized he was too…excited? Was that what the feeling was? His anticipation for the inhabitants of the room was disturbing his thought process, although, he mused, the thinking he'd been doing had been somewhat unproductive recently.

At last, they arrived, and with them, an easy banter that cut off when they noticed Near sitting unobtrusively on the bed.

"Your MOM's release date is clearly a result of poor company management."

"What? That didn't even make…Mello?"

"Wha- oh. What are you doing here?"

"I delivered the package," Near waved towards it, unnecessarily, "and I am awaiting further instruction."

"You coulda gone back to your room." Near didn't even invest in a mock innocent look when he favored Mello with a blatantly obvious ego stroke.

"I am only supposed to do what you tell me, correct?"

"Well…" Mello knew that Near had not misunderstood that particular command. Near knew that Mello knew, and was using an excuse that Mello could not deny, a tactic which, although he easily recognized it, Mello couldn't do much to counter. Such were the games they always played. And now Mello needed an order to give, or he would feel as if he were wasting the rare opportunity of bossing Near around, and would lose his advantage. Although when it was Near's intention to be bossed around, he got a sneaking suspicion that he was losing anyways. "Erm, yeah. Yes. Yes! Did you open the bag?"

"No. You told me not to."

"That's too bad. I was kind of hoping you would. It's worms." Clearly disappointed that Near had not broken the rules and inadvertently spilled worms on himself, Mello changed the subject. "We're having spaghetti tomorrow."

"You plan to put the worms into the food?"

"Yeah. The food is prepared in the kitchen, by the chefs, but there's a room where the finished food goes to cool before it is brought out in plates for the students. There's an air vent in the closet of that room that's just big enough for-"

"I have a key to the room."

"What? Why'd they give you a key?" Near shrugged.

"I have never given them reason to doubt my intentions, and the key allows me to avoid socializing when I am not feeling emotionally prepared for it."

"Emotionally prepared...? Jesus Christ, Near, they act like you're an invalid!" Near shrugged again, and applied conscious effort to not shuffling his feet. For a variety of reasons, the least of which was not the new feelings he was pursuing, Near felt his apathy give way to relief that Mello did not view him as an invalid because of his suicide attempt, and had no wish to inspire a change of heart on the matter. "Just meet us here half an hour before dinner tomorrow." The smallest of the rooms inhabitants wiggled and writhed, causing the bag to shift and tilt dangerously. Mello dove across the room and stopped it from spilling over, then retied the top, tighter. From the floor, he scowled up at Near, who had neglected to leave after Mello had said his part, leaving him in the awkward position of needing to declare a clear dismissal.

"Why are you still here?"

"You are lying on my shoes." Mello realized that, in diving, he had indeed lain across Near's shoes, and pulled back as though burned. Without another word, Near turned and began to make his exit, but Mello felt as though the exchange they'd had felt incomplete, and when he failed to think of something to say, he called after the already closing door,

"Don't be late." Having felt the same sense of incompletion at the end of their exchange- or was it just the novelty of parting without conflict- Near chose not to point out that since his only task in the next twenty one and a half hours was waiting for them to end so he could met Mello in his room, it was extremely unlikely he'd be anything but punctual.

* * *

As expected, time passed at it's usual rate of one second per second, and Near observed it's passing with no more expression than he usually did, although it was markedly different to wait when there was an established event to wait for. Near timed his descent to Mello's room so well, that the movement of the second hand on his watch was exactly mirrored by the movement of his arm to knock on the door.

He left exactly one minute and thirty nine seconds later, armed, once more, with a gently moving sack. Antisocial as he was, there had been no need to scout in advance for the corridors most likely to be empty, and it was with little difficulty that he slipped into and out of the food preparation room, taking, as an afterthought, a nutrient bar to eat on the way back. He would be skipping dinner.

* * *

Near felt nothing. After assuring his two coconspirators that nothing had gone awry, and returning to his room, he felt no adrenaline rush, or feeling of victory, and found that he could not take pleasure in chaos for chaos' sake. Thus, Near chose to dine with the rest of the students. Maybe seeing the plan unfold would provide a more intense impression on him.

Although it was with some interest that Near noticed it took more than fifteen minutes for the first screams to peal across the dining hall, there was no satisfaction attached to it. Honestly, Near didn't even understand the panic that unfolded before him, beyond irritation at having been served something other than what was expected. Worms were perfectly healthy to consume, and clearly the feeling of something living in one's mouth hadn't been enough to deter most of the students from eating half or more of their meals. The sauce had hidden any flavor. While students vomited, and flung themselves from their tables, leaving chairs and bowls scattering in their wake, Near calmly placed his fork in his untouched bowl, pushed back his chair, stood up and left. Passing Mello's room, and hearing some commotion, he opened the door and walked in.

Mello and Matt were sprawled across the bed, laughing hysterically, and Near felt a sense of déjà vu watching the two. This meant that the time had come and gone to extract any feeling out of the entire event, and Near slumped over where he stood.

"Hahahaha. That was fucking priceless, man. Didja see Tom's expression? It was like- and he was like- and then the juice fell back out of his mouth!"

"Man, that's 'cause you weren't looking at Irene. She's got such a stick up her ass, it was about time someone took her a notch down…Near? What are you doing in here? Shit, man, you're bringing me down? What are you doing moping in our room?" Near chose to interpret the question as the question he needed to answer, ignoring the somewhat pointed way that Mello had not objected to his moping, only the location he moped in.

"I did not feel anything. The experiment was a failure. I am not happy." Matt and Mello looked awkwardly at each other, both at a loss as to what they were expected to do. Matt, who seemed more socially immune than socially stunted, pushed aside the feeling that he could say something, and leaned back. If Mello wanted to do something, he would. Apparently, Mello wanted to do something, because he approached Near and awkwardly patted his shoulder. This had been so much simpler before he'd agreed to use Near, because now that they were…comrades, or whatever, he couldn't very well let him break down crying in his room.

"Just calm down. This is too weird. You aren't…you aren't…sorry, what are you doing?" While he spoke, Mello had quickly and gracelessly squeezed Near to his side, in a weird I-don't-want-to-touch-you sort of hug, and then released him. Instead of jumping from the contact, and the shock of- god forbid- physical interaction scaring Near into a more normal attitude, Near was…refusing to let go.

"Near? You're- uh, you're holding me. Near?" Seemingly paralyzed by Near being affectionate, Mello raised his arms as if in surrender instead of shoving Near away. Near took advantage once the barrier of arms was gone, and nuzzled in closer, plastering himself against Mello's side, and burying his face into the taller boy's chest. "Near?" Mello's voice had gone almost hysterical. "Matt?" Near's arms came up and around Mello's torso, and his whole body relaxed as he sighed.

"I feel it…"

"What?" Mello almost shrieked.

"Happy?" Matt offered. Near gifted Mello's shirt with a small frown, but his body did not regain it's tenseness from before.

"Not that, exactly."

"Then geroffme!" Mello pushed Near away.

Near's whole face seemed to droop down a little, and he looked up at Mello with impossibly sad eyes. Puppy eyes. With just the slightest wobble to his bottom lip. Dear lord.

The worst part was that it was all real. As much as it irritated Mello, he knew that if Near of all people were to show an emotion, it was certainly real, and most likely extremely powerful to have invoked such a reaction. Because, again, it was _Near_. Mello rolled his eyes and sighed.

"We can use you again, so you get to keep helping out." Still far away from Near, he extended his arm way out, and patted Near on the shoulder, while maintaining as little contact as was humanly possible. "Cheer up."

Near seemed to pull himself together, and his face went blank again, but the sadness didn't exactly go away. In a small voice, he said,

"Thank you." And walked out of the room. Everything was quiet for a while. And then,

"Dude, I feel like you just kicked a puppy."

"Shut up, Matt!" And everything went back to normal for a while. Well, mostly normal.

With the benefit of the trust that authority figures had in Near- even trust understated it since he literally had access everywhere- Mello and Matt began pulling off spectacularly huge pranks. Mischief on a previously unheard of level. Rats, completely covering the floor of the dining hall, huge paths of inexplicably dead grass which read from above "ALIENS LAND HERE", and no student would even go within ten feet of the bathroom on the left wing, third level. No matter how many students they asked, none of the staff could ever figure out why. The hair of every single blonde student turned pink overnight.

Through it all, Near remained blameless. Although Mello and Matt were brought in many times for interrogation, nobody even considered asking Near. In fact, the one time he was brought in, he was asked to keep an eye on his fellow students, and report any actions that suggested they were in league with the duo. Near dutifully submitted a report once a week, and kept everything completely honest, only omitting himself from the observations.

Even when he was caught sitting in the kitchen after a batch of potatoes went out that dyed everyone's teeth blue, he was congratulated on having avoided the prank, asked if he'd seen anything suspicious, and patted on the head. Had they even searched him, they would have found four empty packets of the prank dye in his pockets.

And after every prank, Near would wait in Matt and Mello's room, where depending on Mello's mood, he would either be swept into a quick squeeze, or would be forced to solemnly approach and hold the older boy to get his hug. When Mello got tired of it, he would always push Near off, and Near would never complain, although later on, he would hug his pillow, and wonder what was this strange attachment he had developed.

He hadn't been lying. It wasn't happiness he felt exactly, but with the proximity came a feeling of shelter. Warmth, like when he cocooned himself in blankets on cold days. Safety, in a dizzying kind of way, like the moment before he dropped off to sleep. It just…appealed to something in him, some instinct that he didn't understand, but that he desperately needed to fulfill. Near was intelligent enough to identify those feelings as infatuation, and discovered, to his chagrin, that he'd rather appease the feeling than crush it.

Which he did. Sometimes three times a week, and sometimes as little as once a month, in a celebratory hug with Mello that glowed with shelter and warm and safe. Glorious, marvelous, and lovely, lovely. And strictly forbidden. Although he always got his hug, Near didn't show that he needed it, like he had the first time. It wasn't normal to feel the way he did, and the last thing he wanted was for Mello to become disturbed enough by his behavior to stop him. That would be unbearable, at this point. Of course, Mello knew anyways, but as long as the pranks were going well, Mello had every reason to ignore whatever odd emotion Near was feeling towards him, and life, as it has a habit of doing, continued.

* * *

"This isn't fucking fair."

"Nyah. And you say I curse like a sailor."

"It's not my fucking fault, that out of everyone in the goddamn school, it had to be me. Me!"

"Maybe all those dirty words gave you the cavity. Anyways, don't whinge so much. There's like, eight other students who have to go too."

"It's not a cavity! It's a hollow. That means it's not my fault that it's there. Getting it filled is a preventative measure. Genetics did this to me!"

"Whatever makes you feel better. I'm sure that's what they say to all the kids that don't brush."

"I do too brush!"

"My, aren't we defensive."

"Stop being so aggravating. Anyways, we'll have to hold back on the sprinkler thing. I'll be gone for two days."

"Two? Why for two days?"

"Because whenever they take us into town, they make us get all our doctor visits done in one go. So six students equals eighteen appointments. When I come back we can do something."

"Nah, it's not worth it on my own. And it'd have to be done before they pump the pipes for winter."

"Sorry, man."

"It's not your fault, I guess." Mello sighed. "What'm I supposed to do while you're gone?"

"You could hang out with Near." Mello looked at Matt, and then they both burst out laughing.

"No, seriously."

"Sit around and mope, and wait anxiously for my return?"

"What do you think I am, your wife?"

* * *

Mello sat at an armchair he'd pushed close to the window, and sighed again. He looked pathetic, swaddled up in a fuzzy blanket, holding a bar of chocolate he didn't have the heart to eat, and gazing out the window at the road leading into Whammy's.

"Mello?"

"What?"

"Am I to assume that your plot to turn the water in the sprinklers into Jell-O is no longer occurring?"

"No, it's not. Go away."

"Very well." Before he left, Matt had told Near the plan was off, but he'd needed an excuse to check on Mello, and he had somewhat hoped that Mello might want to try it anyways, with him. It was odd seeing the usually energetic boy so lifeless, and drained of all his motivation. Near had no experience with relying on someone so much that without them, there was nothing left. Was Mello just going to sit there by the window for two days, and wait for Matt to come back? It did seem like the kind of thing the dramatic boy would do.

A couple of hours of quality moping later, Mello's stomach started to rumble, and since the sound was clashing with the melancholic air he'd been carefully cultivating, he decided to go eat. When he got to his door, he was surprised to see that someone had left a plate of spaghetti, a bowl of matzah-ball soup, and some grapes on a tray. Silently grateful, although he'd never admit it, Mello started eating the food. It was only when he picked up the grapes that he saw the small note.

_Finish eating, and then come downstairs._

It hadn't been signed, but it was obvious who it was from. Mello briefly toyed with the idea of ignoring Near's request, but he had appreciated the food enough to allow his curiosity to win over his spitefulness, and he went downstairs to where most of the students were in the cafeteria.

He grabbed a small plate of food to pick at, even though he was full, and sat down, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. The only thing that stood out was the soup pot in the middle of each table, closed. The big, 7 gallon ones. Near was sitting alone at his usual table, fiddling with something in his lap. But cell phones weren't allowed at Whammy's…

The small stage at the end of the room, for presentations too big to present in the theatre made a loud noise, like static. From the speakers, a scrambled voice announced,

"There is a container in the center of each table. Please open yours." Having been automatically given the leadership role, just by sitting at his table, Mello lifted the lid. The pot was filled with popcorn.

"Excellent!" exclaimed a red-head at his table, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth." The voice at the front of the room spoke again.

"Please direct your attention towards the stage."

What happened next was marvelous. Probably dangerous, too, but absolutely and utterly fantastic. First there were sparklers, and violins started playing. As the orchestral piece picked up, there were more and more sparks till, in the finale, trumpets, and drums and actual fireworks, indoors! It was marvelous, and the students left with their stomachs filled with popcorn, and their eyes still shining, and it was almost impossible to tell that the teachers had not planned the display.

Of course, Mello had been watching when the teacher's table had all stiffened, and had therefore seen the teacher sent up to get Roger, and the look on the old man's face when he'd walked in just in time for the fireworks. Ha! It wasn't even that there were a lot of fireworks or that they were big, since indoors that kind of thing would have started a fire, or at the very least caused some injuries, but the timing was brilliant with the music, and the whole display had just been…magnificent.

Mello returned to the second room, and walked right past his door to go sit and wait in Near's room. When Near appeared at the door, only about ten minutes later, Mello still had a silly grin across his face, and Near had to blink a few times to see it directed at him.

"Was that you, Near?" It was pretty obvious, what with the note and the fiddling, but Mello had to ask.

"Yes, it was." Amazing how Near could claim credit for the most fantastic prank of all time with that same monotone. Mello couldn't restrain himself anymore, he leapt across the room.

"That was incredible, Near! That was the single best show I've ever seen in my life, and Roger's face was amazing, and the whole thing with the music was just great!" Mello released Near and fell back onto Near's bed, still breathing a little bit hard from his outburst. "My life is complete. I think I can die happy now. I'll never see anything else that good." Near looked at his toes, feeling awkward at the praise, and more than a little disappointed that the best hug yet had ended. Mello sat straight back up, grinning.

"Who knew you had it in you? That was…" Apparently running out of words, Mello jumped up and squeezed Near again, until he wheezed from a lack of breath. Well, he'd never been hugged that enthusiastically before. Mello released him, letting him catch his breath for a few seconds before he was hugged again, actually lifted off the ground and spun around a few times.

More dizzy from the contact than from the spinning, Near swayed a little on the spot once he was set down, and blinked several times.

"Uh, it was-"

"Fireworks! I mean, fireworks! It's brilliant! It seems so obvious in retrospect, but wow! And the timing, it was perfect!" Mello continued gushing, and hugged Near again. Laughing at the look of utter shock on Near's face, he announced, "That was seriously the best. I'll hug you all night if you want." Mello let Near bask in the surprise of that for a moment, before Near's face turned more thoughtful than he'd ever seen it- certainly Near had never looked that deep in thought for any class- and he asked carefully but clearly,

"Will you give me a kiss, instead?" Mello's face went serious, but he studied Near's expression instead of yelling or storming out right away, which was good. Near didn't allow himself to look away, or blush, and Mello actually admired his courage in asking something like that so seriously. Of course, he acknowledged that this was a confession of sorts as well, but he looked at him levelly for only about a minute more before he decided it couldn't hurt and nodded.

"All right." Mello carefully put on hand on Near's waist to pull him closer, and put the other on Near's face, pushing his chin to make Near tilt his face up. Carefully, he lowered his face towards Near, and when he got close enough that it felt awkward to just stare at him, he closed his eyes, missing the moment when their lips touched and Near's eyes closed as well. It wasn't even a kiss, really, so much as a brushing of lips against lips, and the touch was so gentle, it was barely there. After a few seconds, Mello started to pull back, but Near's hands jumped up and gripped Mello's face, strong enough to keep him there. Mello's eyes shot open, and he gasped a little, because although Near's eyes were still closed, his forehead was crinkled a little, and his face was more passionate than Mello had ever seen it.

Immediately after he gasped, he realized what a stupid idea that had been, since it left his lips parted just the slightest bit, but instead of taking advantage, Near held him there for two more seconds, and then he sighed against Mello's lips. His fingers relaxed, and he sagged against Mello slightly. Since his face was somewhere in Mello's neck, instead of on his face anymore, Mello allowed the contact, and used the time to compose his own expression.

The thing was, for all the passion Near had displayed, it wasn't an I-want-you-now kind of passion. It just felt like Near had put his entire being into that point of contact between the two of them. It struck Mello as sweet, and a little sad, and when Near finally pulled away, seeming to have steeled himself for retribution, Mello leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"Thank you for the fireworks, Near." The hand that had been on Near's face had somehow ended up on the back of his neck, and they regarded each other from the inadvertently intimate embrace before

Mello took back the hand on Near's waist, took back the hand on Near's neck, and walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Still looking a bit shocked, Near collapsed onto his bed to think about what had happened.

* * *

For all that it felt like the whole world would surely change because of what had happened, not much did. Matt came back, and Mello filled him in on the sheer amazing that had happened while he was gone, and not filled him in on Near's reward for it. For the next prank, they didn't need Near, and for the one after that, they did, and afterward, Mello only paused before he hugged Near, as usual.

And then after that, there were no more pranks, because Mello and Near were both called into the office to speak with Roger.

"L is dead." And one of them had to be the new L, but since neither of them had been specified, there was a chance for it to be both of them. Near thought it felt sweeter than a victory would have been. Mello refused.

* * *

When Near left the office, he felt blank. As soon as he got to his room, he felt anything but blank. He curled up a bit, around the almost hysterical grief and fought the urge to repeat something futile like "why, why, why?" Or maybe "Why me?" Because Mello didn't want to be near him, now that he didn't have to and Near hadn't realized he'd been hoping for anything until it was pulled out of him, and the emotion of it had him feeling like something was being extracted from him, slowly and painfully, and most of all, unbearable. He didn't know what to do with the feeling, so he curled around it, and then thrashed a little bit, as if to shake it out, and finally, after the pointless urge to claw at his own skin and sob and scream and tear it out, he went completely limp, except for his fingers, which flexed, and unflexed. He wanted a hurt he understood, instead of this intolerable excruciating thing he didn't comprehend enough to deal with.

He wanted to hurt himself, except for the thought of how pathetic he was and how weak Mello would think he was, when he was so obviously torn apart by Mello. Well, that was his own fault for building himself back up around a person in the first place. People were so unreliable.

There was a knock on the door.

Near didn't say anything, but Mello came in anyways, and Near looked blank, blank, in a manner that Mello didn't realize he'd dropped until it reasserted itself.

"Yes?"

"I would like to propose a contest." Near didn't answer or move, so Mello continued. "If you can catch Kira, I'll kiss you as long as you want." Near's eyebrows rose a little, under his hair, and Mello bent forward as if to kiss his forehead again, but only brushed him with the tip of his nose, and breathed against his mouth before he pulled back. "Good luck."

Near was not happy, but he never was, and he wasn't in the agonizing pit of anguish and misery that'd been drowning him a moment back. And the hope had returned too. Was it…could it be that Mello wanted him to win?

* * *

He blew it up. Mello had dropped a bomb on the suspected Kira's head, and ended it all, messily, yes, but completely. And then screened the funeral attendees, and found both Amane and Mikami trying to bury their notebooks with their God. Fools, without their leader.

Near crouched on the ground, with his toys all around him still, and felt an emptiness so sudden and powerful, it was like the floor beneath him had simply ceased to exist. Faced with this displacement, he had to clear his throat twice before he could give voice to the sentence in his mouth which was

"I am a genius." Gevanni, Lidner, and Rester looked at each other in confusion. This wasn't the kind of thing their employer usually said, but sometimes, when a person was faced with failure, they needed to be reassured of their own worth. It was Lidner who stepped forward, and said, softly,

"Yes. You're brilliant." But that wasn't what he'd meant. It hadn't been reassurance he'd sought. No, when Near pointed out the obvious fact of his own intellect, he was merely bringing it out so he could marvel at what little difference it had made, in the end.

For all his superior self control, and superior focus, Mello had beaten him by dropping a bomb, and though Near had claimed his hands were tied to minimize loss of life, wouldn't Kira have killed more than the twenty or so that had died in the time it would take to finish his stupid little game?

Which meant it meant nothing. Because Near was not only a genius. He was also a loser. And loser was one of those titles that eradicated every other defining feature from someone. If you lost, it didn't matter what you'd brought to the game.

Near touched the snoopy bandaid on his arm where he'd gotten his shots before he traveled to Japan. A single drop of blood had swelled from each one. Near's blood. Genius blood. But it was only genius blood if he was talking. If Near closed his mouth now and never said another word, it wouldn't matter how smart he was. If he took a walk up to the roof, and kept walking when the roof ended, no forensic team would pick up his bone fragments and brain matter and say

"Ah, this is genius bone fragment and brain matter. Careful what you mop it up with."

Near had lost, and there was nothing left. No victory, no kisses, no _value_. Nothing.

Nothing. Near unfolded his legs, and lay down on his face, limbs splayed out like a star. If nothing mattered, he might as well stay here. The floor was cool against his face, and the little strip of skin between the bottom of his shirt, and the top of his pants.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Near said nothing. Maybe if he lay there long enough, they'd go away. Eventually, he'd dehydrate, and die, and then his corpse would lie there, and nothing would change. The world would go on.

"Sir?"

"Give him a minute."

There wouldn't be a funeral or anything. He didn't really need one, and the only one he'd ever attended in his life he hadn't wanted to go to. They made him wear _black_. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to go to his funeral, except out of obligation, and who was he to impose on them? He wouldn't want them to come anyways. Actually, it'd be nice if Mello could say a few words.

Unrealistic, but, having resigned himself to an unnoticed death, Near was beyond caring whether his thoughts were things he should be thinking. If he was going to lie here and die, he would think about Mello, and how nice his voice was.

"Sir? There's something wrong with the system."

"Go check it out. I don't think he's going to move."

"Is he in shock?"

"Sir?"

Angry, most of the time, but even when he yelled, it was nice, in an indefinable way. It sounded like warm arms, if they could speak. And when he said Near's name, it wasn't angry anymore, which surely had to be an accomplishment. It made his name sound warm too. Near shivered against the floor. He'd say it softly, so Near couldn't pick it apart and analyze it like he would anything else. So softly.

"Near?" So softly that Near couldn't demand answers from it because it wasn't something he could collect data from.

"Near?" Near wondered how long it would take for him to die. Not too long, he hoped. The floor was cold, even if he was playing himself a wonderfully accurate recording of the last time Mello had said his name.

"Near!" Urgent now. Had Mello really said his name so few times that even replaying his memories, he was running out of the friendly sounding times? How many more would he get before he had to listen to Mello calling him a sheep?

A heel nudged against his side, and he felt like a pancake, being tested by a spatula. He frowned, and made a small noise of protest, but didn't feel like expending the energy it would take to bat the foot away. It nudged harder, and he resolved to haunt whoever was disturbing his wallowing. Couldn't they just let him die in peace?

"Get away from him!"

"Oh, calm down. I haven't laid a finger on your precious sheep." What memory was that from? Near couldn't recall Mello ever having said those words before. He opened his eyes. There was a shoe in his immediate vision, and he knew it was not the shoe of anyone he would ever hire. It was too…it was not the shoe of anyone he would ever hire.

The shoe was attached to a leg, which somehow had the audacity to wear leather when Near had been trying not to hope for Mello to show up anyways, but worse than that, there was a rosary hanging halfway up the chest. Hope tingled in Near's fingers and on the tip of his tongue, but he tried not to expect anything until he came to Mello's face. Mello. It was Mello.

Of course it was. Mello was not a gracious loser, but he was not a gracious winner either. He was here to laugh. Near sat up so he could at least get a nice look at Mello while he did so.

"I'm here for the prize." Oh? That Near had not expected. He tilted his head, confused.

"I lost." He reminded, in a small, sad voice.

"Yeah." Suddenly, Mello was closer. "So now _**you**_ have to give _**me**_ as many kisses as I want." What? Near stared up at him. But…he didn't want him, right? He didn't…

"Stupid Near. All's fair…"

"In war?"

"And love."

"Which is this?"

"What do you think, Near?" Mello tugged on him, and he somehow ended up in Mello's arms instead of in the spot he'd been preparing to die in.

"I don't know." Near said, in that same forlorn, confused voice, until Mello took pity on him, and answered,

"It hasn't been war in a long time."

Again, Near's world shifted, but this time, the floor did not vanish, or even return. He felt anchored, and though all there was was Mello.

And that was okay.

Better than okay, actually.

He looped his arms back around Mello, cautiously, waiting to be pushed away, but Mello squeezed him back tighter, and he lost all his breath, which was only partially accounted for by the increased pressure.

"No, it hasn't."

"…sir?" Near recalled that there were people in the universe besides Mello and himself but couldn't

bring himself to care about them just yet.

"You all may have the day off." Mello grinned.

"Just a day? I'm supposed to get as long as I want. You all have the week off. I'll let Near call if we need longer."

The three looked from Mello to Near who nodded. He didn't _seem_ like he was being taken against his will…

They all hesitated, unwilling to leave him alone, but Mello was already leading him out, and the way he guided Near by his waist was gentle enough.

And then Near was gone, and there was a long moment, where each had to come to their own peace about not knowing what was going on, and realizing they may never know what was going on. One by one, they shook themselves, gathered their things, and left.

And later, tucked away at God knows where, with dust swirling in the light from the window like golden snow, and the warmth of finally_ finally_ all around, Near kissed Mello, but it felt an awful lot like Mello was kissing Near, so Near smiled against lips and skin, and realized that yes, he was happy.


End file.
